Papa, May I?
by Kelekona8
Summary: For the light heartedness of the title, this isn't a very light hearted fic. It is about what I think would have happened if Quartermain had a daughter.
1. Chapter 1

This story has been bugging me ever since I first saw LXG in theaters. I have finally decided to get it down. Please let me know what you think! Praise and constructive criticism only; flames will be used to burn statistics, the most evil class on the planet! ]:)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own LXG or any of the cannon characters. The only thing I own is Carolyn and that is basically it.  
  
~*~  
  
Carolyn Quartermain wandered through the small market, arm looped through her basket, in which she carried her purchases. Every once in a while she called out a response to a comment or question posed to her. The hot, dry wind caused her colorful wraparound skirt to flap against her ankles, just above her sandaled feet. Her sleeveless white shirt was not as white as it had once been, stained overtime from the dirt. A few blond, curly wisps of hair that had escaped the loose bun she had pulled her hair up into blew into her tanned face and brown eyes.  
  
She grinned at a comment a friend made; then she glanced toward the road. And her grin slid off her face. There was a horse pulling a covered carrige. Carolyn tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear with her free hand, frowning, as the wagon came to a stop in front of the hotel. A well dressed man got off telling the driver to wait for him, though not in such polite terms. The man then entered the building. Carolyn stared after him, frowning distrustfully, before she turned and went back to her shopping.  
  
She was bargaining with one of the stall tenders for some bullets when she heard a *very* familiar "CRACK". Her head shot up and whipped around in search of the source. She found the well-dressed man and a figure that was much more familiar to her and *much* more welcome, heading from the house. Without really thinking about it she moved toward them; they stopped in front of a group of natives, two of whom had dropped a person on the ground. Seconds later that person keeled over from his kneeling position, causing Carolyn to jerk to a stop.  
  
She stared at the unmoving black lump in the middle of the dirt road. It wasn't the first time Carolyn had seen a person die or a dead body, far from it in fact, for she had seen many in her 17 years of life including her mother's, her step-mother's, many of her father's lovers, many more friends and, the most painful of all for both her and her father, her older brother's. Her hand went up and her fingers ran over the necklace she wore around her neck, it was a long string of colorful stones, looped around her neck twice so that it was like a choker and then draped over her collar bone and allowed a silver pendant to rest against her chest.  
  
She didn't move until she was jerked out of it by a huge explosion, to which her reaction was to drop her basket, crouch down and cover her head with her arms. She looked up and saw the hotel ablaze; her mouth fell open. She rose to her feet and looked back to where the two men were. She ran over to the well known figure, the basket forgotten. "Papa!"  
  
He looked up and extended his arm to her, which wrapped around her shoulders; her own arms went around his chest.  
  
"It appears the war has arrived."  
  
Carolyn gave the man a look of confusion. She looked up at her father, Allan Quartermain, who glanced back down at her. He pressed his lips together; Carolyn recognized that look, it meant that he had come to a decision about something very difficult. Her father then looked back at the burning building. "Very well, Reed. I'm in."  
  
Carolyn looked at her father questioningly.  
  
"Excellent," the man, whom her father had called Reed, said. "Pack for an English summer."  
  
Carolyn's jaw dropped as her gaze switched back from Reed, who was now walking off, to her father. "*English*? Papa, what's going on?"  
  
She watched as her father's face became tight and she followed his gaze as it went to the graveyard, or more specifically to a particular grave in the graveyard. A cross, that had Quartermain simply written across it. She felt a pang in her heart at the sight of that grave. She looked back at her father. "Papa?"  
  
He didn't look at her. "Let's go, Carolyn." She stiffened when he called her by her full name; he only did that when something was wrong. "I will explain everything when we get home."  
  
She frowned but allowed him to lead them in the direction of the small house they called home, picking up her basket on the way.  
  
~*~  
  
"England?"  
  
Allan Quartermain nodded. "Yes."  
  
"But why you?! Why do you have to do this?! Haven they taken enough from us?! Why can't the just leave us the bloody hell alone?!" Carolyn was almost in tears.  
  
Quartermain took his daughter's hands in his and held on even though she made a half hearted attempt to shake them off. "Carolyn, listen to me."  
  
She pressed her lips, not looking at him, but he knew she was listening.  
  
"I don't know why the need me, but I know that if I don't help there will be a world war that will spread to here," Carolyn stiffened, she shared her father's deep love for Africa and his hate for England, though she had never seen her family's native home. "And I don't want that to happen, nor do I want to see any more of those I love taken from me."  
  
Carolyn swallowed. "I'm coming with you."  
  
"Carolyn..." her father's voice was warning.  
  
"No, Papa. You are all that I have left. I won't be left here while you are gallivanting around God-only-knows-where and I without a clue as to whether or not you are alright!" Carolyn looked at him pleadingly. "Please, Papa. I don't want to be alone."  
  
Quartermain sighed, staring down at their hands. Finally he looked back up at his daughter's face.  
  
~*~  
  
Yes I am evil and am going to make this a cliffie! ]:) *cackles evilly* Let me know if I have gotten your attention and I will continue this. ;) 


	2. Chapter 2

Carolyn stood at the railing of the ship watching as they pulled into harbor. It had been about a month since Reed had come to her father asking him to come to the aide of the British Empire and they were finally pulling into the harbor in England and it was cold, rainy and just plain dreary. She crossed her arms across her chest more tightly. She was wearing a long duster over a pair of pants, a dark blue shirt and a leather vest with her hair tucked up in her hat and a pair of leather boots on her feet. She was dressed almost identically to her father or any man.  
  
She was wearing her brother's old clothes.  
  
After he had died they had lain in a trunk for a year, until one day she opened that trunk, pulled out his clothes and began to mend and adjust them. She had worn them a lot of the time ever since. The only reason she hadn't begun wearing them constantly was because her father had insisted that she wear dresses and skirts when she wasn't doing things that required wearing pants, such as hunting, shooting and doing "manual labor," so she still spent most of her time in skirts and dresses, though they were more wraparounds than what was considered "stylish" among most of society. The only really "feminine" thing she wore was her mother's necklace and that was tucked under her shirt.  
  
She heard someone walk up beside her.  
  
"How are you feeling this 'fine' morning, Carrie?"  
  
"Freezing my bloody arse off." Her accent was almost identical to her fathers, except for a few hints of others from her being fluent in Swahili and French. "For the sake of all that is good, it is damn *July*!"  
  
He chuckled. "I warned you."  
  
Carolyn just glared at him before turning back to watch the ship being anchored and tied into port, choosing not to comment.  
  
~8~  
  
Carolyn sat next to her father, her head resting on his shoulder and his arm wrapped, comfortingly, around her, in the carriage, watching the rain pour down outside on London. "Damn dreary country, isn't it?"  
  
Her father nodded but said nothing.  
  
She glanced up at him for a moment before going back to watching the rain. She knew her father wasn't at all happy about being back. She snuggled closer to him. "It'll be ok Papa."  
  
He smiled, looking down at her. He leaned over and kissed her forehead before going back to watching out the window.  
  
The carriage finally jerked to a stop; Carolyn pulled her hat back on, tucking her hair up in it.  
  
The door opened and Reed was standing there with an umbrella. "You made good time."  
  
"Not a good as Phileas Fogg. Around the world in 80 days? Huh."  
  
Reed was about to give her a hand out, but Allan pointedly reached out first and Carolyn took her father's hand; he made sure she was well under the umbrella. Carolyn didn't know whether to feel annoyed or grateful for his over protectiveness of her; she ended up rolling her eyes and indulging his need to protect her.  
  
Reed led them inside a huge building; larger than Carolyn had ever seen. They followed him through the many halls causing her father to ask if they were going to Australia. At one point he removed his coat and hat, but she kept hers on since she wasn't at all used to the temperature and was cold.  
  
They finally reached a door where Reed took Allan's coat and hat and offered to take Carolyn's who refused. He then opened the door, letting them into the room beyond but not entering himself; then closing the door behind the both of them. They looked around the darkened room.  
  
Carolyn admired all of the books in the room and the room it self, which was gorgeous.  
  
The heard a tapping sound and both searched for the source, which ended up being a figure at the opposite end of the long table from them. Because of the darkness of the room they couldn't really distinguish any features.  
  
Carolyn knew that this was annoying her father and had that, unsurprisingly, confirmed when he stated his dislike for theatrics.  
  
"After Africa's velds, London's weather isn't helping your mood, I see."  
  
Carolyn narrowed her eyes, not particularly liking the nameless and faceless man's tone.  
  
"Identify yourself." Carolyn knew that it wasn't a request.  
  
The man switched on some lights.  
  
"I'm known by many names, Mr. Quartermain."  
  
Carolyn hated evasive answers.  
  
"My underlings call me 'Sir'. My superiors call me 'M'."  
  
"M." Allan's tone was tinged with amusement and doubt as he walked down the length of the room toward "M".  
  
"Just M." He turned on a few more lights. "I must say the delight is mine, meeting so notable a recruit to this newest generation of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen."  
  
Carolyn had followed a little behind her father, so she couldn't see her father's expression, but she knew that it was one of "What kind of crap is this?"  
  
"League of what?"  
  
In came "M" with his theatric voice and now visible face. "There have been other times when a danger upon the world required the services of...singular individuals." He said the last part meaningfully.  
  
Carolyn merely raised an eyebrow in disinterest.  
  
"How very curious." Allan's response was dry.  
  
They turned their heads at a set of footsteps and into their view came a dark skinned man with a dark beard, a long blue coat with gold embroidery, white pants, black boots and a blue turban.  
  
*This* caught Carolyn's curiosity.  
  
"This museum is full of the curious," was M's comment. "Allan Quartermain, Captain Nemo."  
  
The name caused Carolyn's eyebrows to almost reach her hairline. She had heard many stories about this man, many called him a genius of technologies, others called him things less savory, one of which her father mentioned when he and Captain Nemo stated that they knew of each other. M broke it up and began to explain the situation and her father sat down in front of several files to look them over; Carolyn read them over his shoulder.  
  
"Well now, extraordinary gentleman indeed," her father commented.  
  
"One of them is late." M looked a little anxious. "Harker. The chemist," he elaborated.  
  
"Oh, chemist, eh? Do we get to blow something up, then?"  
  
Carolyn heard the voice right behind her and jumped back, turning slightly to look for where the voice was coming from.  
  
Her father removed her glasses blinking. "My eyesight must be worse than I thought."  
  
Carolyn gaped at the floating file and jumped a little when it slammed down on top of the others in front of her father, who then stood up, leveling a finger at M telling him not to play games with him.  
  
M told the story of a scientist that discovered the means to become invisible, and her father pointed out that he died. The voice spoke up again telling how he stole the process. Allan still didn't seem to buy it and struck out when he was pushed from behind.  
  
"Easy now, Allan. I'm feeling a bit of a draft in my nether regions. And I must say, it's quite refreshing."  
  
Carolyn moved aside as she heard the voice come her direction and then pass her. She closed her eyes slightly at his comment. 'I didn't need that image.'  
  
The black coat that had been lying on the back of one of the chairs suddenly rose into the air and was being put on. "Allow me to introduce myself. Rodney Skinner, gentleman thief." He proceeded to tell about his reasons for deciding to become invisible and how invisibility became a bit of a problem as he began rubbing paint onto his face, rendering it at least somewhat visible.  
  
"We finally caught him," was M's obviously relieved reply.  
  
"And they'll provide and antidote – well, that's if I'm a good boy."  
  
Carolyn smirked at the emphasis he placed on the "if".  
  
Her father's question was as to whether or not he was.  
  
"I guess you'll find out, won't you?"  
  
Carolyn, along with everyone else, turned at the sound of the doors opening.  
  
A tall woman wearing all black, save for a red scarf around her neck, and a back veil over her face, stood in the door way.  
  
She queried at to whether she was late.  
  
"Please tell me this is Harker's wife with a sick note."  
  
Carolyn's mouth twitched at her father's tone, knowing he wasn't at all eager to take a woman along.  
  
Mrs. Harker informed him that her husband had been dead for several years.  
  
M introduced her as Wilhemina Harker and that her "acquaintance" with a "reluctant league member" might be of use.  
  
"I'm waiting to be impressed."  
  
Wilhemina Harker rolled her eyes at him and turned toward Carolyn. "And who is this young man you have with you, Mr. Quartermain?"  
  
Carolyn's mouth dropped open. "Young *man*?!" She pulled off her hat sending her long blond curls cascading over her shoulders. "I am no *male*!"  
  
Mrs. Harker took in her long hair which was mostly down, except for a bit from each of her temples that were pulled back and tied at the back of her head with a strip of leather, and the tanned feminine face.  
  
Allan was smirking at the two women's exchange.  
  
"Well, well, how do you do, love?" Skinner began to approach Carolyn.  
  
Her father grabbed his arm; Skinner turned to him. "Hands off my daughter, Skinner." The warning was clear not only in his voice, but in his facial expression as well.  
  
Mina looked at Quartermain in surprise. "Your daughter?" She looked back at Carolyn who was nodding.  
  
"Yes, his daughter." Carolyn was annoyed. "My name is Carolyn Quartermain."  
  
Mina raised an eyebrow. "You are rather young."  
  
Carolyn's facial expression was unwavering. "I can take care of myself."  
  
M stepped forward. "I don't doubt you can, Miss Quartermain. But the fate of the world is at stake. There are still two more members to recruit. The clock hands turn, gentlemen."  
  
Carolyn rolled her eyes at his theatrical speech, which was quite visible this time, now that she had removed her hat.  
  
"Kicking us out already? A moment ago, it was sherry and giggles."  
  
Carolyn smirked with amusement as Skinner turned and, raising his collar walked out.  
  
Carolyn casually plopped her hat back, though she left her hair down this time; she followed her father and the other three league members out.  
  
'This is going to be an interesting little jaunt,' she thought to herself amusedly. 


End file.
